


Like I haven't Tried

by MichaelAndTheSky, TheAppleOfEvesEye



Category: Thomas Sanders, youtube - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Depression, First Fan Fiction, I don't really know - Freeform, M/M, Mentions of Suicide, Michael finally has his account woohoo, Misunderstandings, Panic Attacks, anxiety is so depressed, prince is trying, thomas is only cruel to himself, trigger warning, yay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-16 01:25:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10561046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MichaelAndTheSky/pseuds/MichaelAndTheSky, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAppleOfEvesEye/pseuds/TheAppleOfEvesEye
Summary: Anxiety questions why he even bothers, then the voices in his head answers for him.Prince wants whats best for Thomas, even if he doesn't agree with his own methods.I think there will be a happy ending.





	1. Sleep

(This is from Mickie: "I haven’t written a Fan fiction in a long while, so bear with me.")

This place has so many doors and locks, the longer he looked at it. The halls would stretch and swirl and melt into each other. His room, unlike the others, was a unstable cluster of fear and warped reality. It was panic inducing. _He_ was panic inducing. At night, he hardly slept. Which in turn, meant Thomas couldn’t either; He was stuck filtering through the maybe’s and might have’s. The alarm was set, and the doors were locked, and the lights were off and _….were they_? Slipping through the thin veil of conscious and unconscious, Anxiety melted from the ground up and stared his creator in the face.

  
Taking a minute to decide what expression he wanted to have before waking him. _Bitter_ , he thought, _Thomas is used to me looking bitter_. He pressed away the frantic expression he kept for himself, and balled his hands into fists, the nails biting through layers of skin. He wasn’t sure how long he stood that way, just that if worse came to worse, Thomas got a bit more shut eye. As blood soaked his nail beds he smirked with blaring condescension. He hiked down his sleeves to cover the cuts and, with a pale finger, he prodded the sleeping man awake. Thomas’ eyes pried apart slowly, one after the other, before his hands rubbed them closed again.

  
          “Huh, Anxie-“

  
“Don’t bother. The lights, off? Yes or no?”

  
          “I think-“

  
“Didn’t ask what you think. Are they off?” He could feel the doubt chill against his spine as he was sure it rattled against Thomas’.  
His hands pawed his jacket closer to him. He let out a low breath, slowly. The wired feeling was sparking… and Thomas was up and out the bedroom. Anxiety caught Thomas’ blanket before it hit the floor and tossed it to the bed, sitting at a far corner himself. Absently he faced the opened door, hearing the padding of Thomas’ feet as he went from room to room. The mental voices now formed white noise as he worried if he had woken Thomas again for no reason. Better safe than sorry was an excuse that worked on anyone but himself. He hated not getting sleep, and he knew as well as Thomas how detrimental it could be to his mood later. The headache that he hadn’t noticed, began to fade with his creator’s reassurance in the situation. He heard one flick and felt his brain seize again. _I should have woke him sooner, how long has that been on_? Rolling his shoulders, he leaned back onto his wounded hands and sleeves, lifting a leg to cross. Thomas came trudging back to the room, eyes still bleary, but focused on sleep if he could manage it again. Anxiety tutted and shook his head, which ached with every motion. The smirk still sat firm on his face and his eyebrows did the work.

“ What would you be without me?”

          “ Asleep.” Thomas replied face planting onto the plush bed. Out of sight, Anxiety winced, the words of Roman echoing though his head with bite. _Can you ever let him be. Must you be a scourge on the very thing keeping you here? Whatever help you think you’re offering is not appreciated, and Thomas would be better without._ His head rolled over to Thomas, whom could only manage to be so cruel to himself. Asking to be rid of to your face is one thing coming from Prince, but the kind Thomas, had asked for him to be slain right in front of him. Seems no one likes depressed people. Not even Thomas.

  
He sat there in the newfound darkness of Thomas’ room … life. Standing, he began to sink into the floor, into the mindscape. There he came face to face with Princy, his counter.

  
There wasn’t a single person in this thought or the next, that Anxiety envied more than the Fanciful Royal. He was his opposite and yet the only person he knew he needed. who he thought he was needed for. The stern look in his eye was leveling and firm, aimed at Anxiety. Looking up to something that resented your very being, was a bitter life to live. All outlooks for the future were miserable. Finding yourself undesirable is one thing, but the certainty that every other being felt the same, is another. He rolled his eyes and brushed past his audience, trudging down into the depth of his hopefully more stable bedroom. His arm was yanked from behind him, twisting him to face Roman head on.

“ Must you be so _selfish_ ” He started, “Will Thomas ever get any rest while you still breathe?"

  
Prince’s voice was cutting deeper than usual. _kill me then._ The corners of his sight were closing in red. _Thomas was having a nightmare_. The hand round his wrist was fierce and tightening. He was pulled again. Meant as a jolt maybe, because of his vacant and sliding stare. Feeling himself lose focus, he tried to shake loose.

  
          “Anxiety..?”

  
‘Let me go’ he wanted to say, before realizing air wasn’t making it to his lungs. His throat sputtered and clenched at the sudden suffocation. Ahead of him Roman’s face contorted into one of confusion, voice sounding muffled like he was underwater. He felt himself being shaken again. He put out a hand to pry Roman’s off, hardly noticing the tone of his capture had shifted to concern, harsh and disbelieving as it was. His hand was slick, sliding off and throwing his balance. The voices shouted at him, cursing him and his existence, and he stumbled backwards.

          “ you-you’re bleedin-”

The voices spoke instead.

“Do you really think-” they were thick and bitter “I want to be this way Thomas? That I don’t hate me, too.” They were saying too much. Speaking to the rich brown of Roman’s eyes, like Thomas’ _. Shut up_. Sight now completely shrouded. Anxiety felt numb, the hands gripping at his head felt foreign, misaligned and ruthless, pressing too hard. He hardly noticed he was released. His head was spinning and his ears rang sharp. He wanted to scream, felt like he was screaming, but heard nothing. _I’m drowning_.

“I want me gone as much as you do…I’ve tried-”

And he was out. Sleeping for the first time in days, while his insecurities curled up his body against the floor and shook. The tears were angry and manic. It didn’t matter, he wanted to sleep. _Now look what you’ve done._


	2. Mirrored

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prince's side of things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for the support. Michael is exploding at the response from you guys regardless of how few.  
> BTW the writing style will change between Prince and Anxiety to mirror the characters themselves so expect dramatic language for roman chapters. Also both this chapter and the next are roman.

Staring at the back of Morality’s sweater, Roman tore at his nails. It wasn’t a regal trail to have, but that didn’t change the worry.

 When he had confronted Anxiety earlier he was dead set on stopping the midnight waking, that Anxiety had gotten so used to doing. He was so vile in his thoughts. Cruel and unyielding to Thomas’ needs. Beauty sleep was essential, otherwise he’d end up with bags larger than anxieties. Sure he had taken notice that even without the eye shadow, Anxieties undereye had craters beneath them. He had waited so long to confront him because not only was bad company contagious, but also because he assumed Anxiety needed someone else to be suffering the way he had. In a way, Roman could understand that. Not too few a time, he was kept awake with ideas for videos or songs.

But for something so minute, so small as turning off _one_ light. He couldn’t accept it.  That night he waited in the cold quiet of the Common room, and peered at the roof. At the very instance that Anxiety’s pitch converses descended, Prince was on the guard. He propped up his chest and hooked a thumb on the belt of his sword. Anxiety would have a piece of his mind and that was that. Truth be told he meant it to be the verbal combat that he and Anxiety often exchanged. However, the dreary hooded persona seemed bleak and unapproachable. Supposing it to have been a better idea to startle him awake than risk whatever inconveniences that could arise from his seeming sickness, he aimed his sights and readied a speech in his head. Parts of him, the kind that took in too much detail as to the darkness under Anxiety’s lightless eyes, noticed in the instance that he spoke: Anxiety was anything but ok.

The Dark figure, rolled his eyes attempting to brush past him. By reflex he reached out and pulled so he was forced to face him. At the sight of Anxiety’s expression, his resolve sank. As a man of noble structure, seeing the dishevelment of common folk shouldn’t rattle him as it did. So, to regain what chisel of nobility he’d have lost by worry, he chose the words to be berating and abrasive.

“Must you be so _selfish.”_  He began, though each vowel seemed to tug at something beneath his invincible demeanor. His dialog following was more of a parry to his own emotion -and vulnerability, than a cull on the man before him. “Will Thomas ever get any rest while you still breathe?”

He heard the phrase slip from his lips but felt the shock of the connotations himself. The Prince didn’t mean he wanted Anxiety gone, no. In fact, he wasn’t even sure if could manage it, though he pressed the idea of such dependence, beyond himself and others like him. He was beyond needing a thing like Anxiety, as was Thomas. But It hadn’t changed, however, the fear that in some way Anxiety might even take his word at once, and do something unspeakable. When he pressed on, knowing his fears to be unfounded, he tightened his grip.

Something in Anxiety’s eyes slid from him to something else past him, not settling at all. Feeling the shift in balance, the lack of apparent stability in the hooded boy’s stature, Prince held firm. Then all at once the memory of panicked Thomas curled in a ball and weeping, flooded into his memory, guiding his hand and words. He called out, to no response. Another hand was pressed to the dark boy’s frame, feeling he thud of his heartbeat, and it shook him harshly.

 Doubt crept in swelling the darkness of the unlit Common Room, pulsing at Prince’s own mind. Though his stubbornness told him it was the boy’s doing, as it always was when fear took Thomas, another was scared that he himself was hurting the Anxiety this way. Had he known at the time, that his words could pierce into him in such a way, he’d have avoided any word until the other had at least a night’s rest. He looked so frail and restless as he was, bags under his eyes and all. The worry now claimed that it was he, roman, that had wracked the boys sleep, snatching it for himself. That now, as he supposed the happiness of Thomas -their host, depended on Anxiety’s disappearance, he was slowly sapping the life out of the him.

He called out again, frightened, worried, and guilty. His echoes assured that his concern – as baseless as he wished it to have been, was lilting his tone. He sounded scared. Anxiety thrashed against him, throat seeming to buckle and bulge like it couldn’t get air, eyes still adrift. When finally, a hand from Anxiety had been pushed against his own, it was weak and slick … then slid right of. A bit of humor at the failed attempt beckoned Roman’s eyes to the scene’s spot. Then it was he who could not breathe. All air thickened and condensed in his mouth gaining a texture and taste; one of metal. Smeared against his fingers and dripping from the sleeves of his capture, was undeniably fresh blood. The sight caused Roman’s stomach to invert and spin, doing tricks to try and lap at his lungs. From this, words, images, ideas swam through his mind faster than he could hope to catch, each worse that the last. _Had it truly come to that?_ If his mouth moved after that, he didn’t remember. Not even the blatant gawk of his expression took notice in his mind. All awareness was lost to the over activity of his sleepless thoughts, unhindered fears, and blinding guilt.

                “Do you really think I want to be this way Thomas?”

The question disoriented him, just enough to snap him back to the moment he was in, however, not enough to catch the mistake in name.

Instead it dawned on him: he never given any thought to Anxiety having little control of what he said, and what   it was he nitpicked at. It always stood to him, that Anxiety was overly particularly obsessive and wished to exert that compulsion onto their host as a way to share the frustration. This was one of the few traits of Anxiety’s that Roman used to convince himself against the recurring fondness that his quips and comments could often stir. To find that it was beyond his fixing, a labor on Anxiety as much as it was on Thomas, was a shock the royal’s system.

                “ That I don’t hate me too?”

Those words, in that particular order, gave wind to Prince’s fears. He let go of his grip and took a step back. It was him; his harsh words and callous insults, that plagued the boy and stripped him of sleep. Was Prince in turn the cause for Thomas’ affliction: the panic attacks and nightmares? Could he truly cause such suffering in those that mattered to him most? _No.._ He wanted so desperately to believe he couldn’t, that this all was a ploy to get him off Anxiety‘s back and turn the blame. But the blood, and the lack of balance in the boys stance. The boy in question shook as he spoke, rattling on his own two feet but eyes finally straight on Roman’s. Pressing his hands to his head in a way that seems painful, his voice almost didn’t sound like his the way it sputtered out. But it demanded validity. _Trust me,_ it said.

                “ I want me gone as much as you do”

Villain; The person responsible for trouble harm or damage.

                “I’ve tried…..” The hooded boy muttered something under his breath before his pitch raised and became a startled screaming

_The words rang in his ears._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember Next chapter is Roman again


	3. While you were sleeping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The destruction of guilt  
> Maintaining Roman's idea of himself is a bit challenging when he won't accept his own faults

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another Roman Chapter  
> Thanks again, if there are any spelling mistakes feel free to let me know

Roman busied his thoughts with daggers of accusations, ones he had thrown and those now aimed at himself.  He saw himself a villain, a trouble maker that sought nothing but to cast the shadow of his faults on another someone more helpless and inclined. This destruction of self-image, earned and passionate while passing through his head, threatened to destroy him. In retaliation his childish persistence recoiled, dashing the condemnation he set upon himself, and denied the whole of it --now too true to solve in increments or partition. It will be handled later. For now, Logan and Dad staggered from their rooms and hurried to Anxiety’s side, his form now shrinking to a fetal position. Morality cast a pleading look at him, cooing and hushing the screaming persona -the persona who’s eyes seems so vacant now in memory, so hollow. He shook his head in response, stepping back until his felt the wall behind him.

“ I- I don’t know”

                “ He’s having an attack” Logan filled in, a questioning gaze looking Roman over before returning to Anxiety. “ But also He is suffering from Insomnia. The combination of the two seems to have truly taken a toll on him.”

                “ Will he be ok?” Morality asked himself more than the other two. HE had gotten Anxiety’s eyes closed but he was still shivering.

                “ It’s uncertain. However we can do our best. See if you can get him to my room, I have medical tools inside. I’ll catch up in a moment.”

Nodding in understanding, The dad persona hefted Anxiety's uneasily light body up and out of commons. In a  mental absence, Roman turned to staring at the slowly browning smears on his hands. _I’ve tried_ His mind echoed but avoiding the continuation of those thoughts, instead opting to repeat the words to himself endlessly.  He missed the approach of his logical counterpart closing in on him.

                “ Don’t blame yourself. He just needs sleep. The lack of which made his Attack much more severe.”  

“What if it’s not” he interjected thoughtlessly.

Logan took surprised minding to himself that these events shook Roman more than he initially assumed it to. Perhaps there was weight to the theory Morality had offered him regarding Prince and Anxiety’s relationship. He had Roman express the events that transpired as accurately as he could. Often the prince's eyes would track to the entrance of Logan’s room, and Logan found himself amused even slightly at the gesture. Though as he neared the end Roman's expression turned grim, lips pursed and brows knitted. Logan left the common area for a minute than returned seeming relieved despite his hard to read emotional palette.

                “His nails dug into his palms, probably to stave off an attack while he was with Thomas. Hence the blood. Nothing ...reprehensible.”

 That seemed to calm the royal’s thoughts a great deal. The Weight, suffocating him before- though unnoticed, was lifted. However the words remained in the back of him mind, lingering. _I’ve tried_. Perhaps, his thoughts filled in- now back to a cheery dramatic cadence, HE tried to be a better friend to us all. _I want me gone-_ He interrupted himself. IT was only because he was something even _he_ could recognize to be a frustration. He wants to be better, more like us. The voice would have sounded desperate had someone else heard it, but at the time it was the thing maintaining the Prince’s  composure.  

Now he was sitting, a near day had passed with  he, the regal of the four, having been kept awake with night terrors. Voices of his subconscious pointed self-righteous fingers and speared him through his heart. Actively on watch of Anxiety’s sleeping form before Morality came in to check on him, he noticed that the boy’s sleep was akin to death; His chest scarce moved a mere centimeter as he breathed so shallowly, his face was colorless and still. IF not for the constant fits every 3 hours or so, where his fingers dug into his thighs, Roman would have assumed him to have passed. It wracked his mind, somewhere too deep to shine beyond his dramatic mask. One nail on his ring finger was stripped a bit too low too close to the edge and succumbed to its thin skin, bleeding. He sapped its crimson drops into his mouth recalling the bitter taste at Anxiety’s words the night before.

 _How dare he? What right had he for accusing me when it was his own actions hurting Thomas and ~~himself~~ -_ He stopped, biting his finger slightly. _No. If he hated himself so much he should just stop. Let things go and it won’t be such a pain._ Yes, he thought, that should solve it all. Should it turn out that he, the Prince, had be harming the damsel all this time, and accusing them of being the beast…it would destroy Roman’s character. ~~It would kill him.~~

Dad mentioned something about taking kids somewhere, and hastily took off, not before casting a worried look at both Roman and Anxiety.

                “Take care of him, Roman. He needs you.”

And he was gone.

In his sleep, Anxiety reached out, clutching one of Roman’s hands. It dragged Roman from his self-saving thoughts, and threw cascades of tremors up his spine like it had the first time they held hands. He chanced a look in Anxiety’s direction, at his face. His eyes were open as was his expression. Roman blinked a few times, unsure if the boy was conscious or not.

“Andy…?” Nothing, just more staring “Anderson-“

                “I’m surprised you’re here.” Rocking his head to face him, Anxiety blinked lazily “ I thought you’d leave me to….get out of your way” thumb rubbing over his.

“I…I’m not a monster” he snapped-jerking the hand back, more at himself than...well himself. It was complicated.

                “ I am.” Before Roman could get a word in “ I’m glad…glad he’s like you.”

“W-what--”

                “ If he was like me…just me… he’d hate himself. Like you hate me-" Anxiety’s voice petered off and he fell back into unconsciousness, leaving Roman in a despairing silence. He reached forward, brushing the hair from Anxiety’s eyes before they clung down in sweat. Freckled or not, if he was going to bare a face akin to his, it would be perfect at all times. His smile was miserable, but fond, gazing at the rare peaceful face of Anxiety, ~~the boy he wanted to save from himself.~~

_And it hurt him more than any blade could._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah  
> Anderson was my idea...IDK I liked it for him... and the whole Andy from toy story kinda vibe.  
> cool see you guys next time


	4. Wake up call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anxiety wakes up  
> Roman tries to help  
> They both learn a bit about each other

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't the end  
> We still have things to solve

He woke to the sound of voices twittering around him.

                “ and we could account the bruising on his wrist to-“

                “Me” another voice spoke up. “I was, holding him too hard. I didn’t realize He was so frail”

“Say that” He began with a smirk, startling the entire group above him. “to my face”. Opening his eyes felt twice as difficult with the pounding he could hear loudly behind his ears. His bones were sore and pulsing warnings at him with every gesture he attempted. _Since when was I this heavy?_ Immediately Both Morality and Prince and a grip on him, helping him up. He flinched at the sudden motion. Morality sighed like a father would to his youngest. If it didn’t pain him so much, he’d have rolled his eyes. Speaking of, his throat felt raw and worn. His weak asshole front dropped.

“was I…” he didn’t finish the sentence. The pinched look in all three Thomas’ expressions told him all he needed. Feeling the Fight or Flight part of his mind charge forward, he struggled out of their arms. He gave Prince a glare from the bruises on his arm _~~and mind~~_ , and surprisingly Prince looked hurt. His mouth opened like he wanted to say something, but he thought better of it. Not knowing Roman to ever _feel_ anything remotely close to regret, it took him by surprise _. What was wrong with everyone?_ He quickly pushed past Morality and Prince, to get to the exit of what looked to be Logic’s room. He needed to get to his own, so he could breathe…alone.

He stayed in the room for as long as he could before the voices became too much. Then it hit him, before he fell asleep, what he said, What he could remember saying. _How much more did I say…?_ The thought thundered in his already dark room, mirroring his fear. _And to prince not less…_

The prospects of having told Prince how he felt, that he wanted to be like him, rattled around in his mind. And that _look_ that Prince gave him. _He pities me…_ The laughter that followed startled even him. Behind him on his bed, was himself, but ink-clad and faceless. Crawling over to him, in its sliding form of a jacket, and shapeless expression, it laughed louder. One of his rooms flaws was that it turned his thoughts into reality, until he solved them. Anxiety tried to step back, but the floor swamped around his feet, turning to concrete. HE sighed knowing what was about to come next. The inxiety plunged its claws into his chest and dragged him through the bed, which dipped in like his comforter have been covering a massive chasm. He tried to yell with his voice was smothered by blankets.

 _What a joke,_ the ink spoke, _that you’d think anyone of them cared. You deserve what you get._

 There was a knock at the door. Anxiety couldn’t raise his voice to answer. The door was knocked on a few more times, before being opened anyway.

                “Anxiety I-“

There stood Roman, shining in the shrouding of the room as the only white item, looking divine in the gloomed setting. His eyes seemed to snap open at the sight of the place. Having never been inside, the state of it must have been frightening. The roof seemed to cave in eternally, the walls dripped like wax, and the floor was marshy and yielding. At its center was Anxiety being swallowed whole by his regrets. He closed his eyes, knowing how pathetic he must have seemed to the royal. So w-

“ **-orthless and Forgettable”** The room spoke his mind aloud. The sheets slid from beneath him, winding into snakes and slithering around his torso and neck. The pressure squeezed the air out of his lungs and throat. He needed to breathe, to calm do-

Roman lunged at the bed/beast -without warning Katana raised, and swung. The rooms manifestations recoiled and coward away, leaving Anxiety on the floor gasping. Caught at such a low point of his thoughts, he must have looked pitiful, in need of a savior, unable to handle his own room.  Ashamed and frustrated, he pressed himself up, ignoring the jut of the prince almost twitching to aid him. _Almost_

                “Seems your designs got the better of you. I guess I thought better of you.” Prince continued almost seeming disingenuous about his belittling choice of words. However familiar they were. His chuckle lacked luster. “How could you let yourself-“

“I didn’t need you here!” Anxiety shouted before he could think about it. Missing the way prince faltered. Being accused of his own insecurities while in the privacy of his room. He was already so small, and all he wanted was peace that he never has, not even in his room. No matter how often his own shortcomings pried at him here _all Prince wanted was to make me feel cruel and wretched. I’m not some villain going out of his way to make-_

“ **Thomas miserable!** ” He heard his thoughts echo a moment after he thought them, each clawing closer to him again. He had forgotten how his room worked. Having never had anyone else there before, it was easy to assume it had all been in his head. Everything amplified, real, and life threatening. He needed to get them out, _now._

                “I….”  Roman’s voice had petered off at the thought, eyes sliding across every beast in the room talking at him. The doubt in his expression was biting at him.

“ ** _Only wanted to help”_**  the glowing shadow behind the prince muttered. Despite Roman himself being still, the silhouette was reaching for Anxiety.

Logic and Morality stood quiet at the entrance, having come after the shout. They seemed surprised at the state of Anxiety’s room as well. It had mirrored princes in the most frightening way. A single thought, manifest and take life. The nightmare to Prince’s Daydreams. Logan adjusted his glasses, more concerned for Anxiety’s health than the emotional turmoil of the situation.

“This is my space” Anxiety corrected. “This is what my mind is like. What parts of Thomas’ mind is like. And regardless of what you think I told you last night, I’ve gotten used to being like this… without your _help_.” He turned around. _Get out please. I need to be alone._ He locked the thoughts out of the Rooms reach.

Logic gave morality a look, that was equally exchanged by the parental figure.

                “He thinks it was only one night?”

“How….why do you live like this…?” Asked Prince, not wanting to feel so responsible. So many of these fears had been created by his own requests, it seemed. These things that literally tore at his anxious counterpart. The bed, sheets and blankets, were the beauty sleep he fought for Thomas to have. Anxiety could see the knowledge cutting into his expression. A second shadow crept behind the Prince a slipknot clearly in tow. Anxiety panicked, knowing the ability of the room.

“Don’t even try to understand it anymore. Neither should you. So, just go” His smirk curled his face, seeming so forced and hollow when in this context. Roman retracted his blade and turned away from him. As he left the strangely solidifying place, he gripped the door frame. Morality’s smile seemed stale, falling ahead of him. _Just leave…before-_

                “I supposed I never…” He looked at the floor “tried considering your situation. That’s on me…. I’m sorry.” and he was gone, down the hall and into his own room.

The stock of the message he expressed, sank into Anxiety’s head.

“ ** _Look who you let down this time, Princy_** ” Roman’s shadow muttered before having the knot slip across his glowing throat. Then it tightened. Anxiety gave the other two a look. _What happened while I was asleep?_

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Thomas stood, staring at Anxiety when he appeared. Anxiety sneered. _Oh boy, what now._

                “Do you know what’s going on?” It was accusatory, as always. Anxiety couldn’t roll his eyes hard enough.

“Why does it always have to be me?”

Thomas bit his lower lip, clearly out of answers. It was a bit surprising that he had been thought of last. He smirked at that. Looking to his right, he realized Roman wasn’t there.

“What, no Princy today?” His eyes tracked to Logic and Morality, each seeming tense. At some point he gave, wanting to understand what happened. “What!”

                “Well… I’ve been pretty as ease lately. Like, beyond at ease, I mean without fear at all until a couple of days ago. Logan and Dad said you were …out for a bit” Thomas began. _Oh,_ he thought. “And Roman was the one watching you.. like he couldn’t get any sleep until you woke up. And now we can’t seem to get him out of his room”

That was confusing. This all was confusing. Why wouldn’t Roman be able to sleep, _I didn’t pass out on his bed. I woke up on Logan’s._ He ran circles in his head. _No_ he told himself, more specifically the voice claiming that Roman cared for him. _He probably was feeling guilt,_ he added, _Guilt for being such a dick all the time. He pushed me into an attack while Thomas was…._ It clicked that through most of his interactions with Roman he never got that bad. He always avoided him out of shame, looking up to the Prince far too much to be seen in a state. _Then those things he said._ The revelation was clear on his face, must have been. Because when he looked back to the group, they all stared expectantly. Thomas had his hands out and his eyes squinted and all.

“Give me a sec” And he sunk into the Mindscape.

At Roman’s door he staggered a bit. This sort of thing would put them at terrible standing if not handle well. But… Thomas needed him, Roman was his happiness. He steadied himself and put on a face. When he brought his fist to the door, he hesitated, gentle or harsh. He remembered the relationship Roman and he had and decided; harsh. He slammed on the door so hard he was sure it would bruise.

 When the door opened Roman was in his pajamas looking absolutely disheveled. _Right...he hadn’t slept._ The smirk he wore spread without his consent into a  relieved smile and huff. Roman’s expression pursed and he looked down at himself.

“Haven’t seen a mirror in a while, Sleeping Beauty?” The door was slammed unceremoniously in his face, and he laughed for a minute, glad Roman was ok, ~~glad like he hadn’t hurt him.~~

                “I’ll have you know!” the Prince’s voice came from behind the door before it opened, “ I take that as a _compliment_. And if you hadn’t been so latched to my form, I would have been sleeping sooner.”

Panic. Panic riddled Anxiety’s thoughts weaving stories and scenarios each more embarrassing than the last. He would have run his mind into steam if not for the reassuring smile the royal offered, blinding in its wake. Anxiety felt his blood and stomach run cold and warm again, flooring the rest of his system, cutting off his breath. Prepared for an attack, he was surprised at its fleeting laps. His fingers still tingled ad the blood crept onto his expression beneath his foundation. It was warm and almost, nice.

“Yeah well. I suppose it doesn’t take you much to compliment yourself.” He looked him up or down “ Or to get ready”

The prince, looked reared and ready, like this conversation meant something between them. Like an inside joke, or anecdote, or shared memory. He looked nostalgic and _sincere_.

                “Well unlike you, CoverGirl, I woke up like this” he grinned for and instant laughing at his own joke perhaps, then locked his eyes on Anxiety’s “ I’m surprised they sent you, Anderson”

At the sound of his name, Anxiety felt his stomach flip and his blood shift temperature again. IT was so disorienting that he almost missed the comment all together. He blurted a response.

“I-uh..I wasn’t …. I came myself” and regretted the decision immediately and the grin became beaming and self-assured.

                “ _Oh~_ were you _worried_ about little ol me?” The Prince cooed, and dramatically posing himself against the door frame, not unlike Anna in Frozen. Here he was concealed and unfeeling. He wanted to laugh at the implication until he remembered the shadow from his room. The one that hung Prince for his compunctions. He looked to the floor and kept his voice intimate and low.

“Don’t let it happen again.” His peripheral vision caught the slouch of the prince’s posture “ I don’t do worry well. So If you don’t want me knocking on your door everyday… make yourself available to Thomas when he needs you.”

                “Is that supposed to be a threat?”

“A Promise….” he looked back, not really seeing, and flashed a quick grin. Roman seemed to reflate. “ Don’t tempt me Princy”


End file.
